Quit while you're ahead
by Esquinzo
Summary: Hiatus, a bit different to the actual episode, slightly happier I'd say.


Please forgive my absence, I hope you will enjoy reading this.

 **-DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!-**

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 **Quit while you're ahead**

She didn't know how long she had been sitting on his bed, the whole time holding his hand in hers. He'd gotten himself blown up – she tended to say again, but then she was at least as worried as Abby, so she'd postpone calling him out on it.

"Director?"

She looked up, her eyes meeting Ducky's on the other side of the hospital room.

"I will take young Abigail home with me, the girl is way too worried to be on her own tonight. I think Mother will easily be able to take her mind off the situation for a few hours."

"The others?" Her tone was clipped, business-like, but she could not afford being Jenny at the moment, and her director persona was just so easy to hide behind.

"Still out in the field, investigating. They are looking for Pin Pin Pula."

The redhead nodded, her eyes having already returned to the man on the bed in front of her. "Thank you, Doctor Mallard."

The Scot bowed his head, about to leave when he turned around again. "Jennifer, dear, how are you holding up?"

"I'm fine, Ducky. Don't worry about me."

"I wasn't asking how his boss is. I wanted to know how his ex-partner is taking this whole ordeal."

She swallowed. She had known that Ducky would sooner or later call her out on it, but she didn't know if she had an answer for him just yet.

"It's – I'm not sure how I should act about it. I've been nothing more than his boss these last few months, maybe we were slowly becoming friends again, but Ducky, how can I go into this when he throws himself in front of every bullet that may encounter his way? He's – he's just himself and that's so infuriating that I don't even know what I should feel. I'm so glad he survived, and now he's in a coma and – He might never wake up again. What will I do then, Ducky?"

She gripped his hand a little tighter, squeezing as the other caressed his cheek.

The ME came to stand behind her, putting his hand on her shoulder in a fatherly gesture. "He will wake up, my dear. Jethro was never one to just quit, you out of all people should know that." There was no malice, no anger in his voice, but they both knew he was talking about Paris. About how she had ended things back then.

"No" she agreed bitterly. "Quitting while ahead is my job."

"Lay it to rest, Jennifer. You must enjoy what the two of you have now. Your friendship is so much more than everything else Jethro shares with any of his other past wives or girlfriends."

"What if I want more than that?" The words came out without her really meaning them to.

"You made your bed, Jennifer" the elderly Doctor sighed. "Now you must lie in it." He squeezed he shoulder again, before he turned around. He was almost out of the door as he called softly over his shoulder: "But you may sleep in his for the night, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

He chuckled lowly as he gently shut the door on his way out to pick up Abby.

Still with his hand in hers, Jenny sat down on the very edge of the bed. She couldn't just lie down next to him, could she now?

The redhead watched his every breath, the light flicker of his eyes beneath their lids. They had shared so much more than a mere bed in their times, sleeping beside him, just one more night to listen to the steady beat of his heart, assuring herself that he was still breathing, living, despite everything that life had thrown at him – it couldn't possibly be so bad?

She toyed with the heel of her shoe, finally pulling it off her foot, then she moved on to the other. Barefooted she sat next to him, knowing the moment she had to decide had arisen. With an air of finality she leaned back till her head hit the pillow next to his, then she shifted over to let it rest on his good shoulder.

"Sleep well, Jethro" she mumbled, then she too closed her eyes.

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Images of Shannon and Kelly had plagued him in his sleep all through the night, he kept coming back to them as if he wouldn't ever be able to let them go. Only in the wee hours of the morning was the pain kept at bay by another familiar notion – one he couldn't place as easily as the exact color of his late wife's hair appearing again and again at the forefront of his mind.

It was more of a scent than an image, like cinnamon and vanilla mixed with something pour and intoxicating. It brought up pictures of hot summers and cold winters, exotic places and foreign languages. A woman. Another woman, not his Shannon, but she too had red hair.

He reached out, wanting to touch her, getting to know her again, as he suddenly was certain that he had known her before, that he should know who she was. He felt hair under his fingertips, just next to him, and soft skin. He opened his eyes, desperately trying to remember who she was, what she meant to him.

Her skin had an ivory color to it, making her pale, but she didn't seem ill. He caressed her cheek, her skin feeling like silk, cool and smooth. The moment she opened her eyes he remembered their color, a vibrant emerald green, always so knowing, always so beautiful.

"Jethro" she whispered hesitantly, her voice slightly husky, as if she was afraid.

He just nodded for a moment, as she reached out, touching her fingertips to his. "How are you?"

"Good." More images came flooding back to him. A city by night, a little farm house in the middle of seemingly endless fields. "Jen?" he tried, not sure where the name came from, but just going with it.

She nodded, he took that as a good sign.

The Marine focused on her face again, gazing at a few little freckles on the bridge of her nose. He could recall kissing each and every one them, feeling – feeling things he had only ever linked to Shannon.

"Where's the hair gone to?" he asked curiously.

"I take it you don't like the new haircut then?" Her tone was light and teasing, testing waters.

He shrugged noncommitting. "Do I like it better short nowadays?"

"Wouldn't know." She mimicked his movement. "You've never said."

He shook his head. "Let it grow again, then."

Jenny smiled, again reaching out, this time caressing the side of his face. "Jethro, are you okay?"

He nodded, then stopped. "I don't know. Jen, there are things I just don't know. What am I doing here?" Gibbs looked around the hospital room.

"You were in an explosion" she answered carefully. "Don't you remember? Abby was so worried. She wouldn't leave your side, although everyone could see she was dead on her feet. I got Ziva to bring me a few clothes, taking my gown back to my house."

"Gown?"

"The ball? At the White House? You poked fun at me a whole week long."

"Why would you be wearing a gown as Morrow's Security Detail?"

"Morrow?" She frowned, confused.

"Why were you at the White House?"

"The President invited me. All agency heads had to go."

Jethro closed his eyes. "Agency heads?" he asked. Nothing was making sense at the moment. "Jen, just tell me. What is today's date?"

"It's 2006." Again, her hand found his face, caressing the burnt skin beneath her fingertips.

"2006" he repeated. "I've missed so much."

She didn't know what to say. He had, there was so much he had to catch upon, but she couldn't bear to invite the world's problems into their peaceful little bubble in a hospital bed, utterly detached from space and time.

"I've missed so much of you."

It was near enough the same he'd said to her on her first day back. She looked at him with wide eyes, not sure whether to comment on it, but ultimately deciding to hold him in her arms a little longer. Maybe this was their fresh start, her chance to do right by them.

Every relationship deserved an ending and theirs had never had one, so maybe that just meant that it wasn't over yet.

"Missed you, too" she mumbled, smiling as she rested her head on his shoulder once more.

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